


Naturally Occurring

by Didymus (TriaKane)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, F/M, M/M, Pre-Series, Seriously I'd like a beta!, Weecest, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/Didymus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How would they have known it was wrong? That it was a sin? That it was against the law? Who would have taught them these things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naturally Occurring

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I was wondering about. I really would like a Supernatural beta since my other fandom beta has a squick about Dean/Sam.

How would they have known it was wrong? That it was a sin? That it was against the law? Who would have taught them these things? Their parents? Their minister? Their teachers? They had no one except themselves to learn from, especially with their dad gone so much. Who tells a kid that they shouldn’t touch their brother in **that** way?

It was drilled into Dean’s head from the early age of 4 that he needed to take care of Sammy. At 6-months, Sammy’s needs were simple—milk, dry diapers and a warm bed, but Dad was around most of the time, except when he was getting tutored in the lessons of the supernatural by various teachers. 

Dean was 7 the first time John didn’t come home for two days. He tried to keep Sammy occupied—coloring, playing with race cars, watching cartoons, but still little 3 year old Sammy wanted his dad. At night, when the nightmares came, Dean was the one who Sammy sought comfort from. The little brother would climb into his big brother’s bed and cuddle up next to him. It actually soothed both of them, and they slept better together. 

It was Dean who Sam turned to after his first wet dream, standing ashamedly by the bed, changing his pajamas while Dean changed the sheets. Dean told Sam it was okay, that it was natural; he told Sam all the things no one had told him, that he had had to figure out for himself. 

And then came the lesson in masturbation. 

Sam was about eleven at the time, and they were living in an old hunting cabin deep in the woods, a half-mile hike to the school bus stop. John was coming and going as he pleased and Dean was the man of the house. At fifteen, Dean was your typical gangly teenager, already noticing girls, flirting, blowing off homework and practicing with the gun Dad had given him. Sam showed less interest in target practice and spent more time reading and actually doing homework, for which Dean gave him endless crap about. But yet when Sam struggled with math or history, Dean was right there helping him figure it out. 

It was on one of these early fall days that Dean slipped soundlessly into the cabin and saw Sam sitting at the table rubbing himself through his jeans, eyes closed. Something must have alerted Sam to Dean’s presence and their eyes met. Caught, red face but empty handed, Dean handled the situation with great tact and less teasing than you’d imagine. Taking his little brother by the hand, Dean led Sam into the bedroom, dropped his pants and lay back on the bed.

“This is how you really do it, Sammy,” Dean said, and then proceeded to show him how it was, in fact, done.

There was no embarrassment between them, it was a sharing of information. Many times they would lie in their beds at night and race to the inevitable conclusion, not realizing that later in life, speed would not be an asset in this arena. 

After Dean’s first date, he came home and told Sam all about it. Sam was curious about kissing, wanting to know how to do it and how it felt.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean said, “I’ll show you.”

And Sam went. It wasn’t awkward or weird or wrong, because no one had ever told them touching and kissing your brother was any of those things.

As Dean learned anything new, he’d come home and tell Sam all about it. Like the night after his first blow job.

“Her **mouth**?” Sam asked, his eyes wide.

Dean nodded, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

“What... how did...” Sam’s hand gestured vaguely as he tried to imagine it.

“Oh, for Christ’s safe,” Dean said, grabbing Sam and pulling him into the bedroom. “Like this.”

And Dean proceeded to show Sam exactly, with a bit of trial and error, how a blow job worked. 

“Why’s it called a blow job, Dean?” Sammy asked after, when he was finally able to speak again. “You didn’t blow, you sucked.”

The glanced at each other and broke into peals of laughter. 

Over the next couple of days, they traded blow jobs whenever they could. Again, it wasn’t an awkward situation. They were close, they loved each other, and there was no one telling them what they were doing was wrong.

The first time Dean had sex, he didn’t tell Sam. That was when things started to unravel. He didn’t know why he kept it to himself, he just knew he didn’t want Sam to know. But Sam was in tune with Dean, noticed the signs of a mood shifts before they happened, saw the minute changes in the way Dean stood beside him, felt the distance creep in between with every passing day that whatever it was, was left unsaid between them. 

And then Sam found out. He didn’t have a name for it then, but later he would come to know it as the green-eyed monster. Jealousy. It hit hard and fast, fueled on with teenage hormones. With sharp and cruel words, he would lash out at Dean at the slightest provocation, and then regret them later. Where no man could separate them, a woman had. 

As time passed, Sam learned to deal with his jealousy in the only way he knew; he dated every girl he possibly could. 

Dean started hunting with his dad part time once Sam turned sixteen. John wasn’t comfortable leaving Sam unprotected all the time, but there were cases where he needed backup. Plus, Sam showed great prowess with hand to hand combat and was turning into a decent shot. 

As Dean was turning twenty-one, Sam was starting to sprout up and begin to grow into the handsome man he would become. A gaggle of girls followed him nearly everywhere he went, including home when they found out that his dad and brother were gone a lot of the time. 

It was one of those few times when Dean was home that he came face to face with Sam’s activities. 

Sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning his guns, Dean looked up when he heard the bedroom door open, expecting to see Sam. Instead, a blonde stepped out, stopping short when she saw Dean. A second later, another blonde head appeared, bumping into the first one.

“Wha…” died on Sam’s lips as he stepped around the girls and saw his brother. 

“Oh, hi, Dean,” Sam said as he took blonde 1 by the hand and walked her out, leaving blonde 2 to follow. 

Unable to look away, Dean watched Sam kiss each girl goodbye before sending them on their way.

Coming back into the small house, Sam headed in the direction of his bedroom when Dean’s words stopped him.

“Two? Really, Sammy?” With more distaste in his voice than anything else.

Pausing by the bedroom door, Sam looked back at his older brother, taking in the raised eyebrow and crossed arms. 

“Jealous?” And he went into the bedroom and closed the door.

And damn it all to hell, if Dean didn’t realize in the silence afterward that he **was** jealous. More importantly, he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

As Sam’s eighteenth birthday drew closer, John was somehow around more, which brought its own problems. Sam bristled under the constant scrutiny of two mother hens and started counting the days until he graduated and was old enough to leave. For good.

Sam didn’t tell anyone about the scholarship to Stanford, fearing that if he said it out loud, it would disappear. He had enough money squirreled away to get him to California when the time came so he wouldn’t have to ask for anything from either one of them.

Three days before graduation, John left on a hunt that would only take a day, swearing he’d be back in time to see Sam get his diploma. Dean couldn’t hide the doubt on his face any better than Sam could. 

Dean’s whistle was sharp and clear as Sam took his diploma and shook the principal’s hand, and when he stepped off the stage, Dean’s was the first face he saw.

“Way to go, baby brother,” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear as he hugged him tight, hoping it would make up for their missing father.

A week later, John returned without a word or apology. 

Sam, on the other hand, had plenty of words. Sharp, stinging words that bit into Dean’s soul as he heard them yelled in Sammy’s hurt voice. His soul bled when John’s tired bellows rebounded in the small room. 

The next thing Dean knew, John was slamming the door on his way out and Sammy was throwing clothes into a bag. Dean tried to explain away John’s behavior, but there was nothing he could say, nothing that would take back John’s harsh words. 

It wasn’t until Sam tried to leave, that Dean realized it was really over. The dream (delusion) of the three of them hunting side by side was over. Sam was walking out the door and if Dean didn’t want to lose his brother forever, he knew what he had to do.

“Wait a minute,” Dean begged. “I’ll drive ya.”

If Sam was surprised, he didn’t show it. 

At the bus station, Dean and Sam faced each other, hands in their pockets. Their history was etched on their faces. This was the first time they’d be separated for longer than a night or two, further away from each other than they’d ever been. Time dragged and flew at the same time. There wasn’t enough time for proper goodbyes, to talk about what the last eighteen years had meant to each other. 

Dean ached to grab Sam and hold him tight, but he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to let go. And he knew that in order to keep Sam, he had to let him go. If you love someone, and all that. 

Sam wanted to stay and run, both at the same time. Dean had been home and stability and love to him for as long as he could remember and now he was leaving that behind. But it was time. If he didn’t go now, he never would. 

Dean frowned as the announcement came over the loudspeaker.

“Bus 71. Bound for Des Moines, Omaha, Denver, now boarding at Bay 3.”

“Well...” Sam said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah...”

They waited until the terminal was nearly empty before making their way towards the waiting bus. Sam handed his ticket to the bus driver and then turned back to Dean.

“I... I’ll call.”

Dean nodded, not quite trusting his voice. 

“It’s not... not you. I just can’t...” Sam sighed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “I know.”

They watched the bus driver take his seat and knew their time together was coming to an end. 

“Remember everything I taught ya,” Dean finally managed to say.

Sam smiled and nodded, then threw his arms around his older brother. 

“I’ll never forget.”

Dean watched Sam board the bus and find a seat. Sam raised his hand; Dean smiled tightly, raising his hand in return. 

Standing on the curb, Dean watched the bus’ red lights fade in the distance, taking his baby brother away from him, and changing the course of his life forever.

Dean’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears as he walked back to the Impala.


End file.
